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are the Pentland Hills with their verdant slopes and historic recollections. To the right lie the city and bay of Leith, "the Piræus" of Edinburgh, the long winding shore in the direction of Portobello, and "the dark blue deep" of the ocean, studded with white sails, glistening in the summer radiTo the north, at a distance of a few miles, you see the majestic Firth of Forth, and beyond, "in cultur'd beauty," the "Kingdom of Fife," with the distant range of the Ochil and Campsie hills. From this point also you can see, at a distance of some three miles, the gray ruins of Craigmillar Castle, famous in the annals of Scotland, as the residence of Queen Mary, and the scene of those secret machinations, which ended in the tragedy of Holyrood; Inch Keith with its lofty lighthouse; the isle of May, once consecrated to St. Adrian, and on which stands another" star of hope" to the mariner ; and old Inchcolm, famous for its ancient convent founded by St. Colomba, one of the patron saints of Scotland. How gloriously, light and shade, land and ocean, park and woodland, old castles and hoary ruins, frowning rocks and smiling meadows mingle and blend in this rare and magnificent landscape.

"Traced like a map the landscape lies
In cultur'd beauty stretching wide;
There Pentland's green acclivities,

There ocean, with its azure tide;
There Authur's Seat, and gleaming through
Thy southern wing Dun Edin blue!

While in the orient, Lammer's daughters,

A distant giant range are seen,

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North Berwick Law, with cone of green,
And Bass amid the waters."

DELTA.*

Here you can easily understand the reason why Edinburgh has been thought to resemble the city of Athens. Mr. Stuart, author of the "Antiquities of Athens," was the first to call attention to this fact, and his opinion has often been confirmed since. Dr. Clarke remarks that the neighborhood of Athens is just the Highlands of Scotland, enriched with the splendid remains of art. Another acute observer states that the distant view of Athens from the Ægean Sea is extremely like that of Edinburgh from the Firth of Forth, "though," he adds, "certainly the latter is considerably superior."

"The

resemblance," says J. G. Kohl, the celebrated German traveller, "is indeed very striking. Athens, like Edinburgh, was a city of hills and valleys, and its Ilissus was probably not much larger than the Water of Leith. Athens, like Edinburgh, was an inland town, and had its harbor, Piræus, on the sea-coast. The mountains near Edinburgh very much resemble those near Athens. I have little doubt, however, that Athens is more honored by being compared to Edinburgh, than Edinburgh to Athens; for it is probable that the scenery and position of the Northern are more grand and striking in their beauty, than those of the Southern Athens." By the way there is a beautiful poem in the Scottish dialect, entitled "Arthur's Seat," written by

* Supposed to be Dr. Moir.

Richard Gall, a young man of great promise, the friend and correspondent of Burns. He struggled with poverty, and like Fergusson and Michael Bruce, was cut off prematurely, but not before he had written some exquisite poems, in the style of Burns, whom he greatly admired. He was contemporary with the unfortunate but gifted Tannahill of Paisley, and possessed a kindred taste in song writing.* His "Farewell to Ayrshire," commencing

"Scenes of woe and scenes of pleasure,

Scenes that former thoughts renew;
Scenes of woe and scenes of pleasure,
Now a sad and last adieu !

Bonnie Doon sae sweet at gloaming,
Fare thee weel before I gang-
Bonnie Doon where early roaming,
First I weaved the rustic sang"-

has been often printed, on account of its locality and associations, as the composition of Burns. He is doubtless greatly inferior to Burns, and not quite equal to Bruce or even Tannahill, but his verses possess great sweetness, and contain some graphic and beautiful descriptions. This is the case especially, with "Arthnr's Seat," his longest and most elaborate poem. As its sketches of scenery in and around Edinburgh, are at once accurate and pleasing, and as it is entirely unknown in America, we will take the liberty of quoting some of its finest passages.

*Tannahill was a weaver in Paisley. He excelled in song writing. Under the pressure of poverty and deep depression of spirits he committed suicide.

Gazing from Arthur's Seat, the poet invokes the genius of Burns

"To sing ilk bonny bushy bower,

Adorned with many a wild-born flower;
Ilk burnie singing through the vale,
Where blooming hawthorns scent the gale;
And ilka sweet that nature yields,

In meadow wild or cultur'd fields;
The cultur'd fields where towering strang
The sturdy aik his shadows flang;
Where lonely Druids wont to rove,
The mystic tenants of the grove."

He aptly and strikingly interweaves historical and poetical allusions. The following contains a fine contrast, and a striking description of the ruins of Craigmillar Castle, in the vicinity of Edinburgh.

“Yes, ARTHUR, round thy velvet chair,
Ilk chequered picture blushes fair,
And mixed with nature's landscape green,
The varied works o' art are seen.
Here starts the splendid dome to view,
Mang sylvan haunts o' vernal hue;
There some auld lanely pile appears,
The mouldering wreck o' former years,
Whose tottering wa' nae mair can stand
Before fell Time's resistless hand;
Sic as Craigmillar's Castle gray,
That now fa's crumbling to decay,
A prey to ilka blast that blaws
An' whistles through its royal ha's-
Where mirth ance burst with joyfu' sound
And melting music rang around,

Ah! there dull gloomy silence reigns,
The mossy grass creeps o'er the stanes,
And howlets loud at e'enin's fa',

Rejoice upon the ruined wa?."

Craigmillar Castle naturally suggests the name of the beautiful and unfortunate Mary, Queen of Scots, who once resided within its lordly but now forsaken halls. The poet therefore breaks out into the following animated and pathetic strains, which, it has been said, will bear a comparison with Mr. Burke's celebrated rhapsody on the unfortunate Queen of France.

"There was a time when woman's charms
Could fire the warlike world of arms,
And breed sic wae to auld and young,
As Helen wept and Homer sung,
But Mary o' ilk stay bereft,
Misfortune's luckless child was left;
Nae guileless friend to stem her grief,
The bursting sigh her whole relief.—
O ye whose brave forefathers bled,
And oft the rage of battle led,
Wha rushing o'er the crimson field,
At Bannockburn made Edward yield;
Ye wha still led by glory's flame,
Make terror mix wi' Scotia's name-
Where slept your dauntless valor keen

When danger met your injured Queen ?"

His descriptions of the Forth and the neighboring regions, of the Pentland hills, and the scenery of the Esk, are strikingly beautiful.

• What varied scenes, what prospects dear
In chequer'd landscape still appear!
What rural sweets profusely thrang
The flowery Links of Forth alang,
O'er whose proud shivering surface blue
Fife's woods and spires begirt the view;
Where Ceres gilds the fertile plain
An' richly waves the yellow grain,

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